In accordance with almost everyone, there are martyr ice crystals encrusting themselves around the stills of my parted lips, cutting like fibre glass and staining in silence
(As if they've ever cared at all).
The blue, it has begun to creep across my cheeks in a rush, letting my eyelids rest in a salted fury.

I've grown tired of worldly visions and contriving plans to save treason from contradiction and they now say it's time to push the stop button. Simplicity caught in the threads of a sequence - let's just add another scuff to our clean slate, shall we?

According to the honeysuckle lip lock you're playing on, I don't deserve to clutch the pink mass of flesh that is stuck between my striving jaws, so I should just gnash my teeth just like I'm getting paid to screech like a wild animal and chew it off in that ****** fashion I've developed from years and years of grovelling on monolithic stretches of asphalt
(Hidden beneath the feet of statues).
After all, my skin is cream without mar and the crimson tides that would spill from this cavity-ridden pothole would contrast my charade in the most lovely of manners.

But then again there are the extra ones left over, like you for example.

You press your face to cold glass and tell me that you'll always listen intently, and I just hope that your actions won't flatten you out. You fasten the phone to your ear and tell me that you'll always be here unchanging.. But I whisper so quietly and yell so loudly I'm afraid someday you'll hang up without looking back. You glance into my eyes like I'm sacred, and tell me that you'll always have something to say to make nothing else significant but the textures falling from your vocal chords... But you know what you've gotten yourself into.

In accordance to your belief my mouth is wildfire through a dead forest and I should open it up a little more to get rid of the rot in its way. Without us thes fertile soils won't birth the parking lot grasses for us to run through like nobody's business, and I've always loved losing my breath. When we get there you say that we'll watch terra cotta and french rose invade our cheekbones in the most complimentary of styles, and then you'll  fold promises like origami and force them into the vices of my fists
(As I pound my hands into the walls to try to tame my screaming emotions)
But cherish them I do, and I favour you just the same.

They say tiny water particles clustered in suspension are no place to hang up my brain stem for the evening, however you and I think otherwise and I have this funny little quirk that happens to involve listening to everything
(You have to think).

Chest rising, falling, waves of life ripple within that hollow chest you hold.
Your t-shirt is cotton. 1000 little fibres, like heaven to the backs of my hands as
I gently trace the contours of your ribcage, hiding those bones that are so fragile against
The blue-grey clouds of mattress we found on the street

Do you know pain?
With your eyes shut, the worries imprinted on your skin fade away.
You look so peaceful, chest rising. Falling.
The moonlight carves your features feather light.
Still you softly let air circulate through your lungs..that angel of oxygen is so kind to you.
You toss and turn in your sleep, while the tendrils of your hair speak of harder times.
You breathe so smoothly.. how long have you been afraid of the dark?

Those blankets form mountains on dust laden floorboards, without footprints for friends.

Thrashing through these storms that enter the cavities of your skull.
Breathe in, breathe out. Chest rise, chest fall.
The stars are reminders of the black, open your eyes to let them shine.
Disrupted now, my animal saviour with the toothpick legs.
You run on instincts when you are blinded.
Where are you going with those pretty little lungs of yours?

Birch bark flesh, you peel your cover off with sweat beaded finger tips,
Are you tired of that mask now?
Coca cola honey dripping from your pores, you have a funny way of cleaning up, darling.
You are a mess in an aluminum disguise, slathered in the paint of raw.
Your chest rises and falls, and the night breathes it's way into you.
Calm now.. coming to a perfect still.

A mannequin of glass, you once hurt so badly.
But mornings are for new beginnings, so it is only the night that taunts you now.

And now you breathe.
You breathe, you breathe, you breathe and you fall.

My fingers trace the softest of sensations, gentle fogs tinted in poison ivy
I can't help but think of the times you bring  me back,
I was misconstrued but the smell of your clothing always wakes me up again

I called it choking on the sweetest of intoxications,
You call it breathing, living, and I cannot agree more with that
The walls twist with an agony we turned away from,
Smothered in admiration, bruised in the spin of need

Nature caressed my skin and told me that I bleed black,
Disbelief was obscured until you brought me back,
You always have a way of doing that, carving your own path
It's amazing that you let me walk down it with you

Your skin is like metal washed in rain, but always oh so tender
The highest tower couldn't keep the struggle away from you
I always try my best to be the shield to keep you from the cold
Your heart beats like a drum, a double manned marching band that I can hold within my fingers

From the havens of petrified tree limbs and tell-tale fractures, the sun watched us rise. In the confines of our new throws and puddled clothes we wounded contradiction with a vehement swagger, stealing baby steps from story books and transforming them into bridges.

-----------------
With pink calla bells young in hand, he assured her that war paint could be beautiful.
(She denied this vigorously, however repetition seems to have a way of getting to a person)
Stripped petal free for the birds; barren, a fairy dressed within recreance,
In his benevolent stead she found her cage a masterpiece.

An apple a day can't keep the doctor at bay despite the slander you have heard,
When you've cascaded amidst yourself
Hope can only dwindle down the contours of the hourglass.
He uncovered the core of her with a wave of his hands,
Vital sunshine, dissolving the shadows that the analgesics could never slacken.

What a pair they were!
Carved from the sweetest bones and set in immutable concrete,
Written in intricacy: a double faced language set for the lips of two, and two alone.
He said she was perfection in the finest and she said he surpassed,
Tangled in the webs cast by green leaves and stump corpses, night stumbled upon the two.

[Yet a pair apropos in match are sure to handle the slips and shades cast in grey with ease,
Confidence must by upheld by excellence to count on morning faithfully returning to your side]

This is how I die
Not by poison, by blade, by bullet or by fault
No big exit, no trumpet, no serenade or fall
Just you, yourself, left ingrained in my veins
Your absence, your silence, is killing me again.